Babe in the Basement
by MarcoDelMarco
Summary: I always wondered what Voldemorte and Bellatrix's child would be like, so I gave them one. She's a lot more nice than her parents though.
1. Babe in the Basement

Chapter One

Babe in the Basement

Narcissa made her way through all the junk and old antiques cluttering her basement with an air of distain. How hard was it to find a simple copper cauldron? "Honestly!" she thought, "Must I do everything myself?" The basements under the Manor house were far more extensive than she remembered, but then again how long had it been since she had been down here? It couldn't have been since before the Battle. No, it had been long before that; at least twenty years. Oh why had the maid chosen to have her baby today!

Narcissa pulled a cobweb out of her long blond hair which now had a few grey streaks running through it. Age does that to a person, age and the stress of having a dark lord frequent your home. And the pain of losing a sister. "Where is that damn pot?"

She was sure that she was far deeper under her house than she had been since, well, ever. Even by the light of her wand she could see hardly anything. Then Mrs. Malfoy noticed something odd, another light besides that of her wand. It was a faint white-blue pulsing light coming from around the bend. Lucius, she had thought, had already gotten rid of all the dark objects. What could make this one activate? She round the curve, stepping over a shattered crystal ball, and was stopped in her tracks.

She had never seen one of these in person. She didn't even know of any that still existed; certainly none in her own home. Narcissa took a breath a walked toward the silver tub. It was a work of art to be sure, and ancient. The ruins carved into the sides were of an exquisite quality, and the glass tubes running all over it were breath taking. Narcissa was not as familiar with ruins as her sister had been, but she recognized the Crono chamber, better known as a time tub, when she saw it. The glass tubes filled with time turner sand were what were making the glow. Ever so slightly she touched the lid, her fingers sliding over the cool inlayed silver. She suddenly pulled back her hand as the cover began to move. It slowly folded over to the side, winding up like a scroll.

Narcissa was no fool. She knew whatever was inside this ancient container could be of no good, yet she had to peer over the edge at its contents. The glow was even stronger inside that out, and all the surrounding area was now lit up by its glow. She looked in, and gasped at what met her eyes. Was it alive, no it couldn't be, and yet….

Even though she was completely alone the woman looked about nervously for anyone who might see. None could know of the contents of the luminescent curse. Then she heard it, a faint whimper. It was not dead, she could not be so lucky, it was only sleeping, but how long had it been here locked in an eternal slumber?

It had been so long since she had held a baby. Her own son was expecting his first any day now, and she had hardly held him when he was young. She lifted it nevertheless, and looked at the mysterious infant. Its eyes were closed even though its sable hair was brushing against them. It, no she, for it was a girl, was quite angelic. The features looked so familiar to the woman, but she couldn't quite put her finger on where she had seen them before. She was certain that she knew that nose, but from where?

The answer became quite clear to her upon reading the note she found folded in the corner of the baby's crypt of a cradle. She nearly dropped it, and it let out another whimper of discontent but did not wake. She was now glad that her husband had gone to take their son to celebrate his wife going into labor. So many babies being born today!

She hurriedly waved her wand over the tube, and it vanished before her eyes. She prayed no one would see her leave the house, but if they did she would claim she had an urgent errand in London that needed to be taken care of personally. She tucked the slumbering babe under her cloak, and made her escape. The child's name was a problem. If she were ever to renter the world of her parents she would need a different sir name. If she had her mother's it would draw suspicion, and her father's terror. Her mother's maiden name would do, and few, if any, knew her father's true name.

Outside the doors of St. Agatha's orphanage the child was laid in a basket, and the door was knocked on. Sister Martha hurried to answer knocking when she heard a loud crack just as she put her hand on the knob. When she looked outside on her doorstep there was a lovely child, abandoned, and nothing else but darkness. There was no sign of whoever left it, or of what made that peculiar noise. "Well, come inside dear." They young nun picked up the basket and brought it into the warmth of the convent.

"Now what is your name?" Sister Martha looked at the slumbering angel and picked up the note pinned to her dress. "Let's see, 'Viola Riddle Black'. Well that's an interesting name." She gazed down at the baby who was beginning to stir. "Well, it is the one gift you were given by them. Viola it is." She then gathered up the little girl in her arms. As the sister walked to the Mother Superior's office, she wondered how this little one would grow up, and Martha had a strange feeling that this child was meant for something special just as she opened her small gray eyes.


	2. Snake

Chapter 2

Snake

At the St. Agatha orphanage, a seven year old girl was hiding in the hen house as she did most Saturdays. Betsy Miller and Candice Chole had been chasing her again. They were making fun of her eyes and how quiet she always was. Normally this didn't get to Viola too bad, but this time they had found a garden snake and were trying to throw it at her. She pulled her knees to her chest, displacing the hay around her feet. She hated snakes.

The hens pecked at the ground around her under the carful eye of Cornwell the roster. He didn't like the little girl being in his house, but he and his comrades had long since gotten used to her presence. The hens would every now and then consent to be petted by her. The girl liked this. Their feathers were so soft and pretty, and Betsy Miller was terrified of chickens for some reason which Viola found surprising seeing as she had no qualms about picking up snakes.

It was nearly lunch time and the girl was hungry, but she could still hear the bigger girls calling out to her. "Dead eyes! Where are you Dead eyes?" She hated that name! "My eyes were gray, not dead", she thought to herself as she pushed back her black hair from in front of them. Sister Martha had always said that she had the loveliest eyes that she had ever seen. Mother Superior didn't agree with her, but that couldn't be helped. There was hardly anything that Mother Superior would dream of calling "lovely".

The girls were gone and it was safe to come out. Viola crossed the yard and went into the orphanage for her lunch of a peanut butter sandwich; no jelly. The cafeteria was crowded with other girls, all of whom had already gotten their lunch. Because she was last once again her sandwich was made with the two end pieces.

After the measly meal Viola went to her bedroom to read. She was the only girl who had her own room because she frequently had nightmares that woke up the other children. So a closest which had previously housed an unusable water heater was converted into a room for her. It was small, dank, and barely fitted her bed, but at least she was alone. She didn't even mind the occasional spider who decided to share her tiny space. However, it was not a spider on her pillow when she opened the door but the snake that the older girls had been using to torment her.

She almost screamed but she held it in. As afraid of the snake as she was, she was more frightened of one of the nuns giving her a paddling for making a ruckus in the hall. The reptile had its eyes lock of her and stuck its tongue in and out. "P-please go away…" Viola stammered. To her surprise the animal seemed to oblige and slithered past her and down the corridor. The girl was still sniffing, but she couldn't help but wonder what had happened.


	3. The Linen, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

Chapter 3

The Linen, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

Viola didn't go to morning mass today. It was her birthday, and she wanted to sleep in. No one would care if she skipped. Sister Martha was the only one who ever checked if she were there, and she had left the order a few years ago. Besides, who wants to spend their eleventh birthday in church? It's much more fun to run around outside!

The little girl did just that, she could hear the nuns and the other children singing (very off key) in the sanctuary while she played outside. She hid under bushes, climbed trees, and of course spent time with her feathered friends. Cornwell was very old now, but he still kept a watchful eye on the girl as she played with his flock. Viola had practically raised all these hens from eggs so they never mind her being there. She loved the smell of hay, the cooing of the chickens, it made her want to fall asleep…

"Asleep again are we Miss. Black?" Viola woke up to see none other than Mother Superior leaning over her.

"Mother superior! I umm..I"

"I don't want to hear it. You missed morning mass again, but we'll deal with that latter. You have a guest, She's waiting for you in your room."

"A guest?" Viola was puzzled. She had never had a guest before. She didn't even know anybody outside the orphanage, but when she got to her room there was indeed a woman sitting on her little bed waiting for her. She was smiling widely, and brushed her yellow hair out of her eyes. Viola thought that this was a very pretty lady.

"Hello Viola," She stretched out her hand and Viola hesitantly shook it, "I'm Ember White, but you may call me professor White. I've come here to tell you something very important," She paused, building dramatic effect. "Viola, you are a witch."

"What? That's not a very nice thing to say!" Viola didn't understand why this strange lady had come just to be mean to her.

"No no, not like that. Witches and wizards aren't really the villains of fairytales. I'm a witch too, and you and I are very special."

"I don't believe you. Witches are green and ugly and covered in warts and you are too pretty to be a witch. What do you mean special?"

"Well, thank you for saying that I'm pretty," She stood up and faced Viola's bed, "I think it would be best to just show you. Stand back now dear."

Viola backed into the hall slightly behind Ms. White as she pulled a stick out from inside her jacket. The woman looked around, and when she saw that nobody else was around she flicked the stick and pointed it at Viola's bed. Suddenly the thin sheets were covered in pink and yellow flowers. Viola gasp and backed away. What was this woman?  
Ember saw the girl's face and decided to do just a bit more. In the hall was a wardrobe that the children all kept their jackets in. Ember flicked her stick, which Viola realized was no stick at all but a wand, and the wardrobe began to dance on its short wooden legs. That sealed the deal. Viola's face was now filled with wonder instead of fright. Ember saw this and with a wave of her wand the sheets were back to linen and the wardrobe was still.

"How did you do that? That was amazing!" The eleven year old girl turned to the woman.

"Like I told you I'm a witch, and so are you."

"Can I do that? I don't have a wand." Viola was getting excited. She wanted to see more amazing things that Ms. White could do with her magic stick.

"You will in time, and don't worry. If we hurry we can get you your own wand by lunch time, along with your other school supplies."

"School? What do you mean school?" Viola wasn't now slightly less enthused. She had always had the nuns for teachers, and that wasn't any fun at all. But this woman, professor White, She might be a nice teacher.

"Well, all young withes and wizards have go to school to learn magic of course. And you've been accepted to one of the best, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. That's where I work and where you will learn how to do amazing things too."

Viola couldn't believe her ears. A whole school of people like professor White! And she would get to leave the orphanage! No more teasing girls, no more end bread sandwiches, and she'll get to learn magic! She really could not believe it.

"But..how do you know that I'm special, like you? I've never been special…" She looked at her feet.

Ember White kneeled down and looked at the girl. She touched her arm and smiled at her, and noticed how pretty her small gray eyes were.

"Now I don't believe that. I bet if you think about it you'll think of something that makes you different from the other little girls here."

"Well…," Viola thought hard, "Chickens aren't afraid of me at all, they hop in my lap and I pet them."

"Yes, animals naturally listen to you."

"And I…I can make snakes go away. I hate snakes, I tell them to leave and they do."

"That's, umm," Was this girl a parseltongue? "That's is something that a few people can do too as well."

"And," Viola hesitated to tell her this. She hadn't told anybody this, "I have nightmares, a lot. About a man with a stick like yours."

"Oh my, I'm so sorry. What was so scary about him?"

"He didn't have a nose. And his eyes were red and ugly." Viola didn't like talking about the boogie man.

"That does sound scary," Ember was hiding her distress very skillfully. "Now why don't we get going? I think it's time for you to get your very own wand. How's that sound?"

"Wonderful!"

The little girl and the lady made their way out of the orphanage, and opened up a brand new chapter in Viola's life. When they got outside and into the car with an oddly large front seat, she didn't look back. All she could do was think about the wonderful thing that had just happened to her and all the amazing things that were yet to come.


	4. Stick

Chapter 4

Stick

"Good morning Hannah."

"Good morning Professor."

Viola had never been in a pub before, and she wondered if all of them were like The Leaky Cauldron. She doubted it. There were lots a men and women in funny outfits talking about 'Quidditch', whatever that was. It sounds like something you have to buy an ointment to get rid of Viol thought.

Viola followed Professor White through the bar to the back where a brick wall blocked their path. Viola heard Ember doing some counting under her breath before she tapped one of the bricks with her stick.

"Oh!" Viola couldn't help but let out a gasp of astonishment.

"If you thought the entrance was nice wait until you walk down the street. Viola, welcome to Diagon Ally."

The woman then led the girl down the street, pointing at the various shops and people and explaining what or who they were. Viola was amazed.

"This is a pet store, though I wouldn't buy that jeweled turtle. I hear they breath fire and I just carpeted my house. Over there is the Quidditch supply store where people buy their brooms and-"

"You mean flying broom sticks are real too!"

Professor nodded and led on. As they walked past a group of men that had been standing near them when she let out this exclamation, Viola heard one say "Must be a Muggle born." Viola didn't know what a muggle was, and she didn't care. She was a child surrounded for the first time by magic!

"Professor?"

"Yes Viola?"'

"I never did ask, what do you teach at Hogwarts?" Ember's eyes light up with the prospect of being able to talk about her field of study.

"I teach two classes actually, Muggle Studies and Muggle-to-Magic transitions." There was that word again.

"What's a muggle?" Viola hated not knowing things.

"A muggle is what witches and wizards call non-magical people. Like the girls and nuns at your orphanage. My class teaches young magical people who have never been outside the wizarding community about them. You'd be surprised how little some people know about them. I even had one student who was convinced that cell phones were ear cleaners!"

Viola giggled. She never guessed that she would know more than someone, let alone lots of people. She knew what class she was going to take when she got the chance.

"And," Ember continued, "Muggle-to-Magic transitions is a new class that our former Headmistress implemented. It's a required class for first and second year students who didn't grow up in a magical house hold such as yourself. It's a course to explain some of the aspects of our world that you need to know like the difference between a fairy and a donxy or some expressions like 'Merlin's beard' and what they mean. Ah, we're here. Viola, this is Ollivander's. It's time for you to have your very own wand."

Peeling gold letters over the door of the shop read: _Olivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C._. The shop window display consisted of a solitary wand laying on a faded purple cushion in the dust window. Viola and Ember entered with a ding from the bell over head. The shop was tiny, empty except for a single, spindly chair in the corner. Thousands of narrow boxes containing wands were pilled right up to the ceiling of the store reminding Viola vaguely of a shoe store. The whole place had a thin layer of dust which made the girl sneeze several times.

"Achoo!"

"Bless you." From around and pile of boxes emerged an ancient man with pale eyes and warm smile.

"Nice to see you again Miss. White. How's you wand holding up? Twelve inches, Willow, with I believe a Thestral hair core?"

"Right as always Mr. Ollivander. It's holding up excellently, but you have a new customer's wand to learn. This young lady is Viola Black."

The old man leaned in close, adjusting his glasses to get a better look at the girl.

"Black? As in _the_ Blacks?" He spoke the name not with affection.

"No no, Viola here is from a muggle orphanage."

"I see. Sorry dear, I suppose it is a very common last name after all."

Viola wondered who these _the_ Blacks were. Apparently this man was not too fond of them. As she wondered this professor White told her that she was going to pick up her books for her while she got measured for her wand.

"Measured? What do you mean measured?" But her question was answered soon enough as the old man tapped a tape measured in his hand with his wand. It sprang to life and began wrapping itself around Viola's arm, wrist, head, and everything else.

Viola stood very still, letting the tape do its job. While she stood there, the old mad was rummaging through boxes, pulling this one and that one off the shelves. The clapped his hands and the measuring tape stopped and flew into his pocket. He carefully opened a box and handed it to Viola.

"Tell me how this one feels my dear. Holly, eleven and two-thirds inches, unicorn hair. Go on, give it a swish."

Viola took the stick, (wand she told herself. I have to stop calling them sticks.) and waved it in the air. It trembled for a moment and then shot out of her hand.

"No not that one then." The man got out another, "10 inches, Ash, Phoenix feather core."

Another wave, and a broken window ensued. This went on for what seemed like ages to the girl. Another window was broken, the floor of the shop was singed, and the old man's hat will never be the same. Soon there was a pile of wands that had rejected her by the old man's feet. And suddenly a fear stuck her. What if no wand worked for her? What if professor White had made a mistake and she wasn't really a witch?

"And I so thought that one would work. Humm…" Ollivander looked Viola up and down. "Let me go into the back and try something…."

Before she could answer the old man scooted off through a door and Viola was alone with the boxes. She sifted on her feet nervously until he returned with a box different from the other ones she had seen so far. The other boxes were cardboard, cheap, and reminded her of shoes. This box was of a dark wood and for a moment she thought he had brought out a miniature coffin.

"I-I don't know if this one will be any different…but give it a try." His voice was shaky and he handled this wand differently from the others, as if he didn't at all like touching it.

"Walnut, a foot and three-fourths inches, with a Dragon heartstring core."

When Viola took this one from the man she felt something she had never felt before. The wand felt warm and began to glow. It felt as if she had just met a part of herself, a part she had always had but never known.

"Yes…Yes that is the wand for you…."

Viola was staring at her new part. This is a magic wand, she thought, _my_ magic wand! She smiled and couldn't take her eyes off it. She was so happy that she didn't even notice the wand maker's concerned look. At that moment there was a ding and Ember walked in.

"Good you've got your wand. Congratulations, this will be a moment you will always remember. Come along now Viola, we've got to get your school robes. Thank you Mr. Ollivander, if you would be so kind as to put this down on the school account we'll send you the gold in the mail."

"Of course, I hope I see you again soon Miss. White. And Viola," the old man looked at the girl's happy little face, "Be good now."

"I will sir. Thank you so much!"

And with that the two witches left the store.


	5. Reflections of the wand maker

(It has been far too long since I updated this story, and I am so very sorry for that. But after seeing the new Harry Potter movie, I am once again inspired to work on this.)

Chapter Five

Reflections of the wand maker

Ollivander watched the two witches leave his humble wand store and sighed. That girl…..could she be? No, he told himself. That woman has been dead for nearly twenty years and this girl is only eleven. It would be impossible. Right?

The old man went into his back room and sat down in a large squishy lounge chair by the fire. He took off his glasses, closed his eyes, and began to think. This girl was so nerves when she came! So unlike the witch she reminded him of. When she was a girl long ago who came into his shop with her mother and sister she actually kicked him in the shins. This girl called him sir.

But the wand. Ollivander remembered every single wand that he ever sold or made over the span of his very lengthy lifetime. And he was very well acquainted with that wand. For a year it had been used to torture him as he was locked away in a dark, dank basement. That wand had caused him so much pain, spilled his blood…And not just his. That wand killed many, many people and destroyed even more lives while its owner laughed. And now it belongs to a child.

The fact that the wand was in his store to begin with was unpleasant to the old man. Traditionally when the owner died (as thankfully this one's had) their wand is ether burnt or buried with them. But not this wand. Its owner's next of kin, her sister, had returned it to him. "She's done enough harm with this wand. I don't want her buried with it." Those were her words. I don't know why she didn't keep it herself as a memento, but she didn't. She put it in a polished oak box and gave it back to me, the man who made it.

I wanted to burn it then and there, but this is a great wand. So powerful, evil very evil, but still powerful and great. The wand chooses the wizard. This Walnut one chose Bellatrix, and it also chose this little girl. But I didn't see the darkness that was in Bellatrix in this girl. I don't know what life holds in store for young Viola, but I know that she will be great, great and powerful. I just hope that she will be so for good. And not go the way of that other witch.

The wand maker put his feet up, and began to nod off. He dreamed of the time, long ago, when he made that wand, and he remembered that it gave him a nasty splinter. He shifted uncomfortably, but then proceeded to dream of dancing Hippogriffs and slept well.


	6. Tomorrow

(writer's note: so sorry for taking so long to update this story!)

**Alyssa Violetta**

"Good morning Rapture! I'm Alyssa Violetta, and this is Dystopia today. Ladies and Gentlemen it's good to be back. It's been far too long since we last spoke." Those cretins will be clambering around every working television in the city by now. I look good, I sound confident, I've got a loaded pistol up my sleeve, and my bags are packed. Let's get this final show over with.

"It is my solemn duty to inform you all," solemn duty/pure joy "that our city's founder Andrew Ryan has been killed." Look down and pretend to be sad. Three, two, one and that enough. "And also the rebel leader Atlas, hero of the underclass and disenfranchised I have to tell you has also passed. Both men felled by the hands of the intruder from the plan crash." If they weren't listening before they certainly are now.

Those freaks will be crapping their ragged pants by now. Both leaders of Rapture's fractions dead. They're two flocks of sheep with no Sheppard to be found. And soon the wolfs will be at their throats.

"I feel your pain. I know your plight! But now is the time to come together for our city. Now is the time to put down your arms and begin to rebuild, the war is over." I am good! If I didn't hate it here so much I bet I could take over the joint.

"I know that together we can-"

"Princess!"Oh crap.

Daisy, my little sister pal. Now the splicers under the sea know she's here with me, and as much as they would like to hear my say pretty words on television I bet they would like a belly full of ADAM even more. Shit.

**Marco Mendez**

Rest in pieces Sander. He's annoying Satin now. Time to open up the radio waves. If I were a signal jamming relay formerly controlled by a mad man with a thing for rabbits where would I be? I would try the Seahorse, but it looks like it's been closed off for a while. I think I left my watch in there…

Now that nobody is trying to kill me, I can see what a hell hole this place has turned into. This place was so beautiful and fun! Now it's all busted and corpse ridden. Smells too. If I were a more analytical individual I would say that this place is a metaphor for Rapture as a whole: it was built for selfish frivolity and was justly destroyed by the fools who created it, but luckily I am not. Right now I need to find that relay.

Crap, I thought it would be in the Fleet Hall! Where else would that nut hide it? I already looked in his gallery and it's been stripped bare except for the freaky dead people at the table. I think he hooked on more than ADAM. Did the smugglers sneak in cocaine?

Where are all the splicers?

"…and this is Dystopia today!" Oh that's why. I wish I could stop and watch, haven't seen any good TV for months, but this is more important. Maybe in here? Nope, the tobacco shop is clean.

Uggh. I swept all over this hole! Oh wait, didn't go in there. "Sofia Salon High Fashion," don't think I've been in here yet. Humm…Swiping some new shoes…and oh my god that is so creepy. It's like he was blasted with plaster. I kind of want to poke him…

!

**Alyssa Violetta**

Shit, I can hear them at the door! And I had such a good speech prepared too. Come on Alyssa, got to stay focused. Just keep the splicers entertained and hope that the airlock holds out.

"Why here is my guest for this special! Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Daisy the Little Sister. Daisy, wave to the camera and say hello to the nice people." Oh please hurry up and save me!

"Am I on the telly Princess?"

"Why yes you are sweetie." Ah, she's so cute when she's happy. Eww, she spit up a little ADAM. Gross.

"EEEEeeee, fun fun! Hi daddy! I'm on T.V. with Princess!"

"Alright dear, simmer down now." The noise is getting louder. What will I do if they get inside? I don't have enough bullets to take them all down, and I've never even fired a gun in my life!

"Princess, what's that banging banging noise?"

"Why, that's our audience." Keep smiling, just keep smiling. "We here at Utopia Today have such a wonderful viewing audience, and they are _trying desperately to get in here to say hello_. If my next guest, a good friend of Dr. Brigid Tenenbaum, doesn't arrive soon they might just make their way into the studio. And we don't want that now do we?" Oh god, I hope he heard that!

I didn't want to do this. I wanted to avoid it if at all possible, but…..

"And now dear viewers, I would like you to stop what you are doing so that I may demonstrate a BRAND NEW PLASMID," the banging stopped "courtesy of my little friend here. It has no name, but I call it 'Save'." Ow! Crap all mighty I hate needles! "And now with the help of my guest, just sit still for me now Daisy…."

"Are we going to play a game Princess?"


End file.
